Rescued
by HauntedNevermore
Summary: Two years after a great slaughter, Spyro, Flame and Ember are the only dragons left in the Artisan Worlds. Sypro has changed for the worse, but can someone bring out the only Spyro, and help him wreak his revenge? SpyroxOC, Rated for safety.
1. Chapter 1

**Rescued.**

**Chapter 1: Undying Rage**

Spyro roared in anguish. He couldn't do it. Life was pointless. Now a large, muscular, well-built dragon of eighteen, Spyro had been fighting enemies for what seemed... eternity. The sorceress, Ripto, each attempt in practical vain, as they always returned. The last battle, simply a few hours ago, was brutal. Spyro bore the scars of previous battles over some his body, the worst of which went straight down, from above a scaly evbrow, over the eyelid, down to his cheekbone. His once brilliant purple scales were now becoming a dark blue as he matured. His wings were tattered and torn, and his tail had an awful chink near the end.

He roared once more, before lyng on the ground, sobbing helplessly. He, the Hero of the Artisan, was sobbing in anguish. Spyro roared again, tears rolling down his scaly cheeks. The overwhelming weight of his destiny had overwhelmed him. He coughed raspingly, and tried to silence himself when her heard a sireny voice.

_"Spyro...?"_

Ember. Flame, Spyro and Ember were the only ones to survive what was now know as, "The Great Slaughter," two long years ago. The slaughter was most unpleasant, and Sypro blamed himself for everything. Before two years ago, all was peaceful, quiet, excluding at odd villain disturbing his vacation plans. But that all changed one night. Darkness filled the air, while Spyro, Ember and Flame were in Dragon Shores. When they returned, each and every dragon's head was brutally chopped off. And that was the least of it all. No details but each and every dragon had been brutally, violently and gorily slain. Spyro blamed himself with a passion. It was then that he found the dagger. It was pure silver... and felt like it was his. He had used that dagger to created the scars on his wrists. The sky was always dark, the grass had a permanent red color, and powerful storms were a regular ever since. The Artisan Beauty was gone.

"Spyro... It wasn't..."

"Yes it was."

"Please..."

"No."

Spyro's happy-go-lucky attitude was a distant memory from the now depressed, angry Spyro.

"Spyro, you haven't been the same-"

"Would you be if your friends and family were killed without a hope of finding the murderer?"

"No, but I'd actually make an attempt."

"Ember, don't you see?"

Spyro stood on his hinders, something new. He was on a castle turret. He outstreched his arms, symbolising all he saw before him. Bloody grass and dark skies.

"Nothing will be the same again. Our lives are over. Spyro the hero is Spyro the zero."

"Please."

He felt something wet and warm on his shoulder. A tear. A tear from a fallen angel called Ember. Ember could only cry at the new Sypro. Flame had lost his rolemodel, thus spent a lot of his time doing nothing. Spyro turned to face her, and took her head in his hands.

"Please..."

She whimpered, begging.

"Be the Spyro I love again. Be the one with a posetive attitude towards everything. Be the funny Spyro. Be Spyro."

_Be Spyro._ That last words clung to the air for a moment.

"That Spyro died that day, two years ago."

"No he didn't. I can see him in your eyes. He's not dead. He's asleep. Wake him up, Spyro! Make him open his eyes! Make him smile!"

Ember seemed hysterical. Tears rolled down her face, and she mouthed words that fell away into nothingness. Ember ran back into the castle, leaving Spyro to consider her words. Was the old Spyro... still there? He doubted... but Ember was right about these things. Once more, her glanced back at the corrupted Artisans, then... walked away.


	2. Frostbitten

**Thanks to my first reviewer, Lithe. Here's your second chapter!**

**xXxXxXx**

**Chapter 2: Frostbitten.**

She walked through the crystallized forest, fingering gently at the crystal leaves. Frostbite's scales glittered in what scarce sunlight there was. She plucked a crystal rose and, after momentary inspection, crushed it mercilessly. The sound was like that of glass being crushed.

_"Imperfection..."_

She hissed, and the words echoed through the forest. Frostbite was a female dragon, with scales so blue and sparkling, they could have passed as sapphires. She had white all over her scales, also, like someone had thrown a bucket of frost upon her. That was what made her scaled glitter like they did. While she hissed the words, her pupils were vicious slits, but now, they were the purest sapphire eyes. She had long, white horns, slicked back, reaching down to wing level. Her tail was long, and strong. She was beautiful, but seemed all around deadly.

Frostbite closed her eyes, thinking, remembering...

It was the day of the slaughter. Frostbite had been hugging her little brother, Blizzard. Her mother and father were counting on her to take care of the forest while they met an old friend in the Artisan Worlds, and they were bringing Blizzard. She waved goodbye, and watched them walk through the portal. She stretched her wings, and lay down on the grass. It was only when a droplet of rain hit her on the snout, that her eyes bolted open. She looked in excitement at the portal... but it had been deactivated. "What?"

She activated it again, and took a running charge at it, her eyes closed. When she opened her eyes, she choked on the smell... the stench of death, gore, rotting blood. She wanted to rip her eyes out at the sight before her. Bodies of dragons as far as the eyes could see. The grass was a bloody crimson, and the sky was dark. She looked to her side, and, far off, saw familiar bodies. Mom and dad... She choked loudly, and fell to her knees, and vomited. She saw something silver beside her... and there, slaughtered like a lamb... was Blizzard. She saw the portal's control panel, and the deactivation button had blood on it, which made a line down the side of the portal, and stopped at her brother's blood-covered claw. She cried out like a banshee at the sight, and cried loudly.

"_Why? Why, my god? Why have you forsaken me? Why!_"

She slipped back into the portal, but, as she did, she heard a male dragon roar in anguish. There, opposite her, at the Dragon Shoresportal, was the one and only Spyro... crying.

Brough back to reality with a bang, Frostbite walked over to the portal. She had shut it down on that day, and made it so that only she could activate it from Crystal Forest. Slowly, she traced her finger down the side, and pressed the activation button gently. The gap in the portal filled up with an image of a dark sky and bloody red grass. With tears streaming down her face, she stepped through, into the Artisan Home, into her past, into reality.


	3. Meetings

**Sorry is this sounds un-plotted, but it is. Bare with me here, I'm running on sheer inspiration...**

**xXxXxXxXx**

**Chapter 3: Meetings**

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Spyro gazed out over what was left of his home...Not much. Bloody grass. The foul stench of death and grief hung in the air like mist. There was nothing to it. He could hear Ember sobbing in the silence. He didn't know how, seeing as she had never been quieter. Things seemed to go like that when his life exploded before his very eyes. He could hear things... see things... smell things... feel things...no, it wasn't the same. It was amazing what grief could do. Strange... Suddenly, he heard a great, powerful roar.

Frostbite sunk into the tall, blood-red grass. Her eyes narrowed into slits once more, as she gazed upon the small sheep that fluttered around grazing here and there. She lowered her wings soundlessly to her sides. Her foot claws weredigging into the soil. Her eyes were unblinking, and her front legs were tucked in. A pouncing stance. Suddenly, she sprang out at tackled a sheep, roaring ferally, sinking her claws into it's neck viciously.

Sypro flew down, no more gliding for him. He landed in the small maze's entrance. (A/N Search your heart... you know it to be true if you've seen the first Spyro The Dragon! If not, just a sort of mini-maze leading to a portal.) Then she gasped. Another dragon. And a gorgous one at that.

"Wh...Who are you?"

Frostbite looked up, and a gasp escped her lips. She stood to her feet, wiping the blood from her mouth. She still had her wings folded in, and instictively released the out. They were like the remnants of angel wings. The muscles were her blue scales, but the webbing was a graceful silver, with ripples in them. They were also tattered, which added to the appearance of a fallen angel.

"I am Frostbite."

She amazed herself at how powerfully her voice had escaped. Spyro, the most powerful, heroic, brave, not to mention handsome dragon she'd ever seen, and she'd actually spoken without her voice cracking. Spyro nodded.

"What are you doing here?"

"Hunting."

"Why?"

"The food in my world has depleted."

"...Fine. When you're finished there, come into the castle."

He scanned the surrounding area.

"This place is too depressing to stay in for too long."


End file.
